


An empty cage where the heart is supposed to be

by antheeia



Series: How you said "I love you" (without saying it) [2]
Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Character Study, Friendship/Love, Introspection, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2019-03-14 19:05:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13596438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antheeia/pseuds/antheeia
Summary: “Query: Geordi, why is it that you never interrupt me when I start babbling?”





	An empty cage where the heart is supposed to be

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Alch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alch/gifts).



> This is my first time writing about Star Trek!  
> I love Data with all my heart, so I hope my depiction of him is good enough!

“Query: Geordi, why is it that you never interrupt me when I start babbling?”

The sudden question was how Data interrupted his long deliberation aimed at denying the possibility that his paintings might have artistic value and including his attempt to define what creativity was. A subject that Geordi was finding honestly interesting, which was why he was surprised by the sudden interruption.

The android did have a tendency to talk a lot, especially about things he didn’t perfectly understand. His programming required him to express concepts clearly and precisely, and when he was unable to do that he started to do what Captain Picard once called _babbling_ : basically, he over-talked, trying to explain every shade of meaning he wanted to convey, even if everyone already knew or understood what he was saying.

Data wasn’t wrong in observing that people usually interrupted him when he _babbled_ , but Geordi thought that the fact that someone didn’t, for once, would make him happy — well not exactly _happy_ , since he couldn’t feel happiness, but the closest thing to happiness for an android. But instead of that, Data had asked him that question: it was unexpected, but Geordi was curious to know more of what was going on in that wonderful science masterpiece that was Data’s positronic brain.

"I don’t interrupt you because I like listening to what you have to say," he replied, waiting for a reaction from Data. He liked that Data was at the same time easy and hard to read: easy because he didn’t show many emotions and they were mostly simple like those of a small kid, but also hard because sometimes they were so straightforward and naive that he wasn’t sure if he was misinterpreting them. 

This time the android’s silence most likely meant that he was thinking about it, so Geordi thought that giving him something more detailed to think about would help. "I enjoy spending time with you more than with anyone else on this spaceship. I wouldn't do something as rude as interrupting you, Data. Besides, I wasn’t lying: I do like listening to you."

While he pronounced those words, Geordi realised how true they were. Sometimes he felt bad about his being alone, about the fact he didn’t have a special someone to care about and who would care about him; but then he remembered he wasn’t really alone, he remembered that Data was there, and he felt better. He didn’t have anything less than what the others had; in fact, he had more: an immortal, unique living being who always had his back, who was always there for him, and who never refused to spend time with him, not even once. Sure, sometimes Data was cold, but most of the times he was attentive and caring — in his own way — and sometimes he was clumsy in a way that Geordi couldn’t help but find endearing. He wouldn’t give up that in exchange for whatever it was that other people had.

“Geordi, you know I cannot be offended,” Data’s voice distracted Geordi from his considerations. “Therefore you should feel free to point out that I am providing superfluous and thus useless information.”

Data was confused by Geordi’s behaviour towards him because it was different from that of all the others. He often found himself confused when it came to humans: the program he had developed to predict human emotional reactions had an accuracy of only 56% — a fairly low percentage — and yet he had been unable to improve it because he still didn’t understand the reason for the errors in his predictions. But Geordi was a case of his own, so much that Data ended up developing subroutines exclusively for him — to predict his behaviour, and to react appropriately.

Geordi didn’t know all of that, but he knew that Data relentlessly tried to understand human behaviour and humanity, and he admired his efforts. He believed that his best friend didn’t realise how close to being human he was, sometimes; but he never told him about this impression he had, because he still harboured the doubt that it was nothing more than the result of him projecting human feelings on his positronic friend. For example, when Data said that he couldn’t be offended, the fact itself that he recognised something as ‘offensive’ was proof enough, in Geordi’s opinion, that he perfectly understood that feeling. Was there really that much difference between _understanding_ a feeling and _experiencing_ it? Could you understand a sensation without being able to actually feel it?

“I have come to notice that humans tend to grow impatient when I explain things too precisely. Am I wrong?” Data asked, unperturbed as usual. 

“No, Data.” Geordi smiled a bit, shaking his head. That surely wasn’t the tone of voice of someone who could be offended, or could feel anything at all for that matter, and yet a part of him couldn’t give up on the idea that, deep down, Data’s ‘being used’ to people was in no way inferior to the way humans cared about their friends, and that all the times he sacrificed himself for the sake of someone he cared about, he wasn’t doing it just because he was following his core programming, but because he genuinely wanted to.

“But, you know, Data, everyone is different. Maybe the others don’t like it when you talk too much, but I do.”

Data closed his lips and was silent for a while. Once again, he wished he was human, because he knew that moment would have made him happy if he was. Geordi always gifted him with moments like that: brief but precious, a small package wrapping all the affection his friend could offer. And Data was sorry — he really was — that he could not offer anything but his catalogued procedures, and no matter how much specific and complex they were, they were still cold pieces of programming that kept being dramatically unperfect, despite how much effort he put into perfecting them. Of course, he had all the time in the word to reach, one day, an acceptable result, and he was confident that would happen; but if he kept progressing at his current pace, there was a 93% probability that Geordi wouldn’t be there to witness that result.

"If I may add something, Geordi, I, too, enjoy your presence and find our conversations very stimulating," Data said, putting all his efforts in crafting a compliment that Geordi would appreciate, then turning away toward his painting, ready to finish it. The image, a tribute to Earth’s artistic movements of Surrealism and Neo-Surrealism, featured a bare landscape with a single figure in the middle of it: a person with a hood completely covering their face, and an empty cage where the chest was supposed to be.

He felt Geordi’s hand on his shoulder, gripping it lightly, so he turned back to his friend who had stepped closer and was wearing a bright smile.

"Thank you for saying that, Data."

Looking at Lieutenant LaForge's grateful expression, Data knew that as much as he tried, as much as he wished, he would probably never be able to fully reciprocate the feelings Geordi was trying to express, not even if he perfected his subroutines. And there was nothing more frustrating for him than knowing that he would never be able to truly feel something for the one person that, in his opinion, deserved it the most, that he could never love Geordi back.

However, that didn’t prevent him from carefully storing in his memory banks all the kind words Geordi said to him, all his soft smiles, all his gleeful expressions, nor it prevented him from replaying them in his mind later, when he was alone, carefully studying Geordi’s tone of voice when he said “I enjoy spending time with you more than with anyone else on this spaceship” one more time.

**Author's Note:**

> Based on prompt #32 ("in a way I can't return") from [this list](http://trash-by-vouge.tumblr.com/post/132858041745/the-way-you-said-i-love-you).  
> Part of a personal project based on this list that consists of writing a number of short fics with these prompts but without making the characters explicitly say "I love you" to each other.
> 
> (I'm always looking for more fellow Data fans, so if you love him, I'd be glad to chat! My twitter is @antheeia. Other contacts on my profile)


End file.
